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“It won’t happen again. Harrison was pissed.” My heart fills a little at knowing that Harrison was just as upset as I was that we couldn’t be together tonight. Our distance not something of our own doing.
“So, I got Warner,” Oscar says as he joins us, his smile small but there just the same. I listen to his tale of how he got one of the leading physicians over the line to support our healthcare policies while my eyes roam the room. People are leaving already, and the event looks like it is wrapping up. Much earlier than I was anticipating.
“So he is supporting Harrison and donating twenty-five thousand to the campaign as well, which is great,” Oscar says, and I want to share my news with them, but I want to tell Harrison first.
“I see people leaving, is it over already?” I ask. In D.C., these parties go for hours, but the staff have only just finished serving dessert.
“Everyone has allergies,” Eddie says.
“You’ve got to be kidding?” Oscar says, bewildered, looking around the room, his voice tense.
I remain quiet, even though I want to sayI told you so. My eyes look at the people remaining. I notice Harrison shaking hands and chatting with some men near the bar. The media have all packed up and no doubt have gone to file their stories for tomorrow.
“Beth you're still here?” Mrs. Rothschild says from the side as she joins our conversation.
“Oh, yes. It is a great event, Mrs. Rothschild, the room looks lovely,” I comment, wanting to try and be nice, when I only want to tell her what I really think.
“I am so sorry for the seating. We must have missed you on the seating chart!” she says in a fake apology.
“It’s fine. I actually had a very productive meeting while everyone was eating so it all worked out well.” She pays little attention to me as she slips on her coat.
“Well, I'm off for the night. Goodnight, boys,” she says, ignoring me as she sashays out the door, along with most of the guests. Shocked, I look around the room, wondering who is packing down for this event. I notice Lillian over by Harrison, trying hard to push into the conversation he is having with one of the key funders I met earlier tonight. Harrison’s body language tells me everything I need to know about that situation, not including her at all.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I say to Eddie and Oscar, walking out to the kitchen to speak to the venue crew. As expected, they have no idea what is going on. They have trays of coffee and petit fours lined up to be served, but with over half the guests now gone, or sneezing their way through dessert, no coffee will be needed.
I decide to take charge of this event and get it sorted. Telling them to stop serving and start packing down instead. I head out into the main room and grab the waiters into a small group and brief them of the new plan over in the corner to get them into line. They look relieved at finally having some direction and they inconspicuously start cleaning tables and ushering guests. I position more staff at the cloak room to push through the departing crowd quicker, and I help the bar team close down the tab and get the final paperwork sorted. Nothing has been paid, so I grab all the invoices and find Oscar and, together, we finish everything off.
“There you are.” Harrison’s warm voice soothes me from behind. I have been so busy the last hour with the event logistics, I hadn’t even seen where he went.
“Oh, sorry, were you looking for me?” I ask, turning to see his deep eyes locked onto me. He looks stressed, his hair a little messy, like he has been pulling at it all night.
“Are you alright?” I ask, concerned something bad has happened.
“No. I hated not being with you tonight, and I have been looking for you for the last hour,” he grits out as he stalks straight up to me and grabs my hand. He doesn’t stop as he begins to pull me toward a small alcove, a darkened space, off to the side of the bar.
“Harrison?” My steps quicken in my heels, trying to keep pace, my heart thumping at the thought of what he’s up to.
We reach the secluded spot, and he stops us, turning to face me, I see everything in his eyes.
“Fuck, Beth, I have wanted my lips on yours all night,” he growls, and he steps closer, slowly, like he is stalking his prey. Heat flames my insides as I watch him unravel in front of me.
“Really?” I murmur, teasingly so, making his smile turn into a sexy smirk.
“God, yes,” he sighs before closing the distance between us and grabbing my jaw with one hand as the other curls around my waist. I meet him halfway, my hands fisting the lapels on his suit jacket and pulling him to me as our lips smash together, needing each other more than the air we breathe. The feeling of his lips on mine is everything I’ve been yearning for.
He growls deep and low in his chest as he pushes me backwards, my body hitting the wall behind me with a gasp as he deepens the kiss even more.
My heart races as my grip remains white knuckled, pulling at his jacket, almost mauling him. The night ended mere moments ago, and we’re on each other like a wildfire.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers in between kisses, his hand travelling up my hips and waist and back down again, feeling my curves. I moan into his mouth at the feel of his touch, arching a little, craving so much more. His tongue sweeps out, running across my lower lip, before sliding against mine in a dance that has my mind whirling.
I can’t remember the last kiss I had. I don’t date, I don’t have one-night stands. I work and look after my dad. That’s it. I lost my virginity awkwardly in college, and had a few other boyfriends afterwards, but nobody has ever made me feel this way. Like a kiss could be the end of my sanity. I clutch onto Harrison in the hope I don’t lose the feeling in my legs and fall because he is all-encompassing.
“I don’t want to stop. I need you,” I whisper against his lips, throwing all my good judgement out the window, probably along with my job, as my body presses against his, almost to the point of begging.
I feel his grip on my tightening, as his growl this time runs through the air, our bare raw need thrumming in both of us, to the point that I am surprised we are even still clothed. My heart beats are rapidly, and I’m feeling almost drunk on sensation.
“Fuck, I need to get you home,” he says, tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth before kissing me again, both his hands now encasing my waist, as mine curl up around the back of his neck, playing with his hair.
